


Amy

by flappr



Category: Gone Girl - Gillian Flynn
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-13 00:59:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4501701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flappr/pseuds/flappr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation of the Dunne family and life after the return of Amy, all from the POV of Amy</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Know Me in Your Marrow

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic and one that I really find very interesting. So, I poured my heart and soul into understanding Amy and this is the product. Thank you.

I concentrate my energy on my goal, and did whatever it took.

A feral action. A quick slice just above his adams apple.

Warm blood pooling over me, I flip him over so I am now on top, and control his last seconds pinning down his arms.

_I’m coming back to you, Nick._

It felt like my heart currently resonated within my head, a simultaneous pump of blood and adrenaline. Not entirely from the result of that fuck.

A realization of my actions came like a wave and my emotions were close to taking control. Recollect. That will be used later when it came to telling the tale.

The tale that, for a few split seconds, became completely rewritten.

Take a nightgown bought by Desi and place it on the blood-soaked bed. White preferably: for innocence, for purity, and for the nice contrast. Don’t let it pool, reverse the role of victim by adding smears and splatters. Practice your tale of woe and smear the hell out of your mascara. Enter the façade and let it completely consume you. Take Desi’s car and drive directly to Nick. Stagger out of the car and fall onto him.

“You..fucking..bitch.”

Collapse to make things even more interesting.

When questioned by the police, conjure your tale, and execute it with enough fiction and vulgarity. Win the hearts of all.

“Alright, you can stop pretending now.”

“I’m not pretending.”

Your carefully devised words, Nick. That’s you.

I have him, and quote Desi when I look him in the eyes and think  _I am not letting you get away again._

I step toward him. He steps back.

“You were perfect.”

Perfect enough for me to change my whole plan for you. To save you. The news story pulled me in and chained me and you. That perfectly designed speech, and the pity of the public. I replay the speech again and again to make sure that I didn’t make a mistake. I know I didn’t, and so I even recorded it on disk.

_“You know me in your marrow.”_

You knew exactly what to say. Five years we have studied each other, and put up with each others bullshit. Door code: be someone they liked.


	2. Life After Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The announcement of the child

I rise early and start on breakfast. Eggs, flour, milk, water, and salt. Crepes for the adult soul. I’m a writer in many ways. This would be my way of slowly patching up the immense gash.

Coming out from behind the corner Nick cautiously appears. I don’t look up for awhile but it’s good to know he’s paying attention to me.

“Hello, handsome.”

I’d like to imagine that our life as it is was the same as before. I thrive in that world. It isn’t, though so I’ve changed it. You wouldn’t know the thrill of “playing housewife”.

To _have_ a husband.

To make him admit his own fucking infidelities on national television, and to have him say exactly what you wanted him to. That’s dedication. No longer would you be oppressor, Nick.

Press meetings, interviews, people crave for something to drizzle over their prosaic realities. Our conversations are rehearsed, both in interviews and home.

At the dinner table, we sit both on the farthest chairs and I shower him with questions about his day. _How was your day? How was work? Has Margo accepted our dinner invitation?_ Today I had an ultrasound and today was the day I announced the biological sex to Nick. I placed my fork on the table and extended my hand out toward Nick on the table. He stops chewing and speaks:

“What?”

“Place your hand in mine Nick, this is important. I want this.”

He places his hand in mind and squeezes lightly.

“I visited my doctor…you did want to know what the sex of your child is, right?”

It was hard to tell how he actually felt, though, he seemed frustrated.

“Okay”, he swallows. “Is it a Christopher or an Emilia?.”

He remembered the names we pondered at a snowy early hour in the morning when we lived in the apartment. That would probably be the gist, but I know how he requested we do that.

“Maureen.“

I could see that Nick wasn’t happy, or he wasn’t good at hiding it.


End file.
